


Recovery

by walnutpipes



Series: Held Back [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom, sherlockbbc
Genre: Afghanistan, Bathing/Washing, Battle, Caretaking, Cocaine, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, John Watson in Afghanistan, John in Afghanistan, Love, M/M, Medical Trauma, PTSD John, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Sharing a Bed, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walnutpipes/pseuds/walnutpipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once home will John and Sherlock discover and reveal their true feelings for each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

Recovery

 

Greg helped John get Sherlock up the stairs, into the flat, and Sherlock’s bedroom. He was heavy like dead weight. His head lolling from side to side mumbling apologies the entire time.

Mrs. Hutson followed up the stairs mumbling with worried words and tears in her eyes. 

“Oh Sherlock”, mumbled Mrs. Hutson over and over.

They laid Sherlock down on his bed and stepped back. A long drawn out breath escaped both of them. 

“Think he’ll be okay?” questioned Greg.

“I don’t know. It all depends on what he injected himself with and how much. We’ll know more when Molly calls.” quietly replied John.

“In that case, I’ll go find out if Molly got the results back yet or not.” Greg said softly as he turned and went out of the room.

John went over to Sherlock and slowly starting removing his clothes. They were grimy, sweat stained, and stank. First were the shoes and socks, then John eased off the shirt, carefully ever so carefully over his head and pulled the sleeves off his arms. He unbuckled and pulled off his pants inwardly thinking that this is not the way he had fantasied about taking Sherlock’s pants off.

John took the soapy hot water Mrs. Hutson brought up and with light touches baths Sherlock. With each gentle wipe of the wash cloth he felt for any bruises, cuts, or breaks. When he’d find one Sherlock would moan and like in slow motion flinch.

Greg came into the room and informed John that Molly had called with the blood test results. It was cocaine. Lots of cocaine. John knew that Sherlock had a habit of the drug but hadn’t seen him use it or even found any hidden in the flat. When Sherlock spoke about it he remembered that he told him he used a 7% solution. However, by injecting it, it could be in a more concentrated form.

After a bit, Sherlock moaned, rolled his head and opened his eyes to look at John. Sherlock’s eyes were clearing. His green/blue eyes gripped him. John felt himself falling into them, hoping to drowned in them. Yet Sherlock’s eyes looked sad and pained.

“I couldn’t help myself. Just once. Just this one time…” and his voice trailed off. 

“Sherlock, I have to know, how much cocaine did you inject? Tell me!” asked John pleadingly.

Sherlock looked up into John’s eyes confused and questioning.

“How?” Sherlock whispered.

“Molly was there. She and Greg helped me get out and home. She drew the blood and checked it at the lab. Sherlock, how much did you do?”

Sherlock just turned his head. He couldn’t look John in the eyes. Shamed.

In Sherlock’s mind John was fragile, broken on the inside. War had done that. John may have saved may soldiers, but lost some too. He had been on the lines with them. The depended on him. He was their guardian angle. So many times John he held their lives in his hands only to have them slip away. Sherlock had read John’s service record. It was easy enough to get, one call to Mycroft. It seems John was in an ambush and they tried to fight their way out. He managed to pull many men to safety He would run right into the fire to rescue the ones pinned down not caring for his own safety. When they found John he was draped over one of the soldiers, one hand still holding on to the man’s tourniquet the other pressing against a neck wound. The soldier was dead. There was blood soaked on the ground, the soldiers shirt, and all over John. John was as still as his comrade, they even thought he was dead too. However, there was just the slightest of breath. They didn’t see John’s wound at first. So much of the blood was from the other soldier. It was only back at the med unit that they discovered it when he was wheeled in on the stretcher. John never recovered from that battle.

It wasn’t the battle that shattered him, it was loosing that one man. He had lost so many, that one man was all it took for his mind to cave in on its self. He was shipped home and given high honors for bravery in battle and saving the lives of so many men, and with a ceremony the medically retired him.

Later the PTSD was discovered. Any little pop, crack, or hurt individual, shattered John. It wasn’t till he came into Sherlock’s life that he calmed down. Almost “cured” it seemed. The dr.’s said it was like it just “disappeared". Sherlock knew better. He could see the cracks. They sometimes peaked out of John’s eyes, his mannerisms, or his words. This made Sherlock worry. Not for himself, but for John. He read from the dr’s reports that John was indeed suicidal. Sherlock would periodically go up into his room while he was sleeping to check on him. He loved watching the man sleep. His face was so peaceful. Sherlock would want to reach out and touch John’s face. Just to brush his cheek, but he held back. He would be satisfied with just watching him breath.

Sherlock would never ever hurt John intentionally. It was just the opposite. If he could, he would take John in his arms and shield him from the world. Nothing would ever hurt John again. But this time, it was he who hurt John, and he would never ever forgive him self. 

Sherlock turned back around. “John, I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I am so sorry. Words can’t even explain how sorry I am. I was a selfish bastard unable to control my ‘urges’.”

“Sherlock. I was right here. You could have asked me for help. I’d have done anything for you.” With that, John laid down beside Sherlock. ….. gently pulling him against his chest and nuzzled into the back of his neck and closed his eyes.

“I’ll always be right here. I’ll always be here for you Sherlock.”

Sherlock felt John’s breath on his neck. His warmth pressing against his chest. But most importantly, John had his arm wrapped over his shoulder holding him tight, protective yet possessive. For the first time in a long time Sherlock’s mind relaxed. The demons in his head quieted, and all he felt was safe and comforted. All he saw and heard in his head was John. His quiet presence dominated his mind and body.

Mrs. Hutson came up to check on Sherlock and to ask John if there was anything she could do. She halted at the doorway seeing Sherlock wrapped in John’s embrace. She quietly turned from the room and a tear of sadness and relief formed as she descended the stairs back to her flat.

The drug wore off slowly through the night. Sherlock continued to struggle with the withdraw. John held him, whispering words of comfort.

There was no more holding back.

“I love you Sherlock. Don’t ever forget that.”. John whispered in Sherlock ear.

Sherlock reached up to John’s hand resting him his chest and brought it up to his lips. “I love you too”.

~Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this was ok. It was my first endeavor. More is brewing in my mind.


End file.
